For the first time in at least two decades I am spending Christmas at home.  No traveling.  But all has worked out well and I've had many confirmations that I made the right decision. 

I was looking through some files yesterday and ran across a poem I wrote more than 20 years ago, but it's never seen the light of day - until today. 

All those years ago I first thought I was experiencing a UTI but it turned out to be much more serious and  eventually required surgery and yearly follow ups for ten years. 

I was very ill and in constant pain but I was fortunate to receive excellent care.  However, my urologist was a grump.  Initially it was Christmas time and he complained about having to work so hard.  I learned that many college students, for whatever reason, needed to see a urologist on Christmas break.  

It was hard to get him to understand that something was very wrong with me.  And when he finally did a procedure and discovered what was really happening, he was angry.  But he was an excellent doctor.  Just grumpy. He's been gone now for many years.  The urologist who took over his patients was also excellent - but not grumpy.  I'm grateful to both of them.

WINTER PARK UROLOGY                                

Long ago, when we would suffer with a complicated  leak,  The words that cheered my soul were,   

"... plumber's come to fix the sink."

Now that my plumbing problems are personal I find,   I sometimes wish my doctor was the warm and fuzzy kind.

But I guess I should be grateful he's a uro-techno geek,   and thankful he's the plumber who's come to fix my sink.

***

Famous Last Words

 In my book of prompts for writing, today's quoted Oscar Wilde, whose famous last words were sad. As he  lay dying in a cheap hotel room in Paris he wrote:

"This wall paper and I are fighting a duel to the death.  Either it goes or I do."

He died 1905 at age 28.  Wilde was a gifted poet and playwright. He wrote "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and "The importance of Being Ernest."   But he was not a good human.  His lifestyle destroyed him.

Many decades ago I helped with a production of Tennessee Williams "The Glass Menagerie."  I wasn't in the play but I led discussion groups with theater goers who wanted to stay and discuss what they'd seen,  Several times the discussion focused on how writers like Tennessee Williams and others could write great works giving us deep insight into human behavior, but were not able to translate this knowledge into enhancing their own lives.  

Just because we know and can beautifully interpret life's truths, doesn't mean we can automatically appropriate them ourselves.  

I have spent much of my life learning lessons from great writers and speakers, not just about what I do, but, more importantly, who I want to be.  

A few days ago the writing prompt urged me to write a new first sentence to begin updating my bio or resume.  Here's what I wrote:

83 year old woman seeking a meaningful life.  

***

The Last Holocaust Survivors

 

Ken and Robert

Robert Clary died this week at age 96.  He was one of the last few remaining holocaust survivors.  These people have been living testimony to how horribly we humans can treat each other.  He and his family were in their apartment in Paris one day and the next they were in a cattle car on their way to hell. 

Robert Clary was a young teenager when he and his parents and 10 siblings were sent to the death camps.  All of them, except Robert, died in the camps.  I heard him speak a few times.  He believed the reason he was spared was because he was an entertainer.  Small for his age, he sang and danced for the Nazis.  He was liberated from the Buchenwald death camp by American troops.

He was best known for his role in Hogan's Heroes but. along with acting, he was a singer, dancer, writer and painter.  He married Natalie Cantor, daughter of Eddie Cantor. 

Like many holocaust survivors he didn't go public about his horrific experience until around 1980 when holocaust deniers began to flourish.  

I met him in the 1980s in West Palm Beach when he spoke at an event organized by my husband Ken, bringing Jews and Christians together to remember this evil event in human history - to never forget.  He was a charming, calm, kind man.

Thank you, Robert Clary, for never letting me forget. 

***

She'll Fly Away

 

I have a journal for writers.  Every day it gives me a prompt and I, in turn, write one page of whatever comes to my mind.  It's not meant to share.  It's meant to keep my writing juices flowing.  

But, this morning, I want to share with you what I wrote on October 31st. The prompt is encouraging the writer to delve into some macabre, frightening event. 

But I wrote something else. 

The Prompt:  As morbid as it may sound, the universality if death lends itself to great literature.  To wit, in 2011, all thirteen novels nominated for the Booker Prize shared a death plot line.  Your task today: write a death scene. 

My Response:  She hasn't been well for a while.  Her world has become smaller and smaller.  She's physically confined but, strangely, psychologically fine with it. 

She's tired.  Tired of the task of living and all that's needed to keep her alive.  She is in pain, and in addition, is "sick" and weak.  Her brain is tired. 

One evening she goes to bed and says her nightly prayer, one that she learned as a child.  "...if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."  

And this night she's off to a great adventure.

***

The Monuments Men

 

For a while now I've been watching old films that I remember loving the first time around.  Surprisingly, I didn't care for some and even found a couple to be unwatchable. 

This week I watched The Monuments Men and I loved every minute of it, just like I did the first time around in 2014. If you cherish historic art and enjoy World War II history, you will like this film.

 

Hitler was making the greatest treasure heist in history.  And what his men couldn't confiscate, they were ordered to destroy... this thousand years of culture. 

President Roosevelt tasked a group of seven middle-aged art experts with rescuing artistic masterpieces from these Nazi thieves and returning them to their rightful owners.  These men, led by Frank Stokes (portrayed by George Clooney who also directed the movie) were museum directors, curators, and art historians.  They had difficulty with the "real" G.I.s  who could not grasp the importance of this endeavor.  

They split up into several European cities to chase down the art.  One item, Michelangelo's Madonna and Child statue in Bruges, Belgium, exchanged hands several times.  Bruges is one of my favorite cities in Europe.

At the end of the film, decades after the war, an elderly Frank Stokes takes his grandson to see the statue in Bruges.  However, this time he is portrayed, not by George Clooney, but by his dad in real life dad, Nick Clooney.  

By the way, another of my favorite movies is In Bruges.  It's about a couple of hit men who are sent to Bruges to kill a guy but, instead, they fall so in love with the city that their lives and changed.  

I might watch it next.  

***

I Love Bill Pullman

  

I just finished watching the 4th  season of "The Sinner"  on Netflix. It was such a relief to finish it.  I've suffered through all four seasons, each a totally different story with different actors, except for Detective Harry Ambrose, as portrayed by Bill Pullman. 

Ambrose appears to me to be clinically depressed in every scene.  He's sad, awkward and can barely get his words out.  Each episode of "The Sinner" is painstakingly slow.  The camera lingers on Ambrose as he appears to be struggling to answer even a simple question.  He looks disheveled and very, very sad at all times. 

He seems to me to be a person who is deeply flawed and unhappy but dedicated to unraveling these complicated mysteries.  

I wonder how they've been able to get away with four seasons but "The Sinner" has a strong following. Jessica Beal is the executive producer and was in the first one.  Like all of the seasons, it's very dark and depressing. I doubt that her husband, Justin Timberlake will ever be a character on "The Sinner" because he likes to smile and have fun on stage.  

Bill Pullman has said this is the last season.  I hope he's right because if there are more I'll have to watch them. 

And I don't want to.

***

 

Wire Coat Hangers

 Jobs Partnership is a great program that helps folks who are unemployed or underemployed by providing skills training in various areas.  One service they provide is appropriate clothing for interviews and positions.  

A few weeks ago a friend, who is part of the leadership in this program was asking for wire coat hangers.  She said they're in need because "no one uses wire hangers anymore."

This was big news to me!  I had no idea how I could be so out of step.  

Yes, I'm well aware of the wire hanger's bad reputation for being used for things other than clothing.  Actress Joan Crawford's daughter, in her book, Mommy Dearest, tells a chilling tale of Joan's outrage at her daughter using wire coat hangers while beating her with one. The term "No wire coat hangers ever!" became famous.  

And every person my age knows that coat hangers were used by desperate women to bring about  abortions.  Many of them died and others required hysterectomies. Decades ago the hangers became the symbol of dangerous, illegal abortions.  

But I don't think that the misuse of the hanger is what's causing it's current bad reputation.  I think it's fashion.  

I came home and looked in my closets to find a mishmash of wire, wooden, plastic and combos of all.  I decided to get rid of all the weird, different shaped hangers and keep only the uniform wire hangers with that little cardboard roll on the bottom for hanging pants.  

I donated the others to Jobs Partnerships.

*** 

Restoration

 

Yesterday morning, in church, we finished up a sermon series titled Restoration based on the Old Testament book of Amos.  Wowzers, it was hard.  Amos has almost nothing but bad news for us.  

Some Sundays these last few weeks, I would have been happier to just see videos of puppies and kittens. But I fully understand why we need to study Amos.  Many of his dire warnings apply to our situation here in the US of A.  

Pastor Philip started by saying "We made it through the hurricane and (sigh) we made it through the book of Amos!"  But Pastor Philip reminded us that this did not result in instant restoration .  And he then preached an excellent sermon on restoring our ruined cities and living in them. There were strong leaders of the Israelite community who butted heads on how to go forward. Just like us.  

However, I want to share Amos' words in this last chapter with you.  It's a message I need to hear and I was kind of shocked with how it speaks, right after the devastating Hurricane Ian, to us Floridans at this particular time. 

Amos 9:11 I will restore David's fallen shelter - I will repair its broken walls and restore its ruins - and will rebuild it as it used to be.

Amos 9:15  They will rebuild the ruined cities and live in them.  They will plant vineyards and drink their wine; they will make gardens and eat their fruit. 

Thanks Amos and thanks Pastor Philip.

***

 

Paul Was In The Slammer

 

This afternoon I, and everyone else in Florida, am waiting for Hurricane Ian to come - and go.  

In Vanessa Echols' book, We're in Heaven, and I Have Some Questions, she profiles the Apostle Paul.

She reminds him, You were beaten, stoned, sent to prison, and shipwrecked at least three times.  And Paul was arrested (or as Vanessa says), You were thrown in the slammer.

Paul wrote several of his books while he was in prison.  This got me to thinking about many of the people who've written great words of wisdom while in prison, how their words have deeply affected my life.  People like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Martin Luther King, Jr.  

But the first person to help me get to the bottom of the question "Why am I here?" was Viktor Frankl.  His book, Man's Search for Meaning, was not written in prison but a short time after he was released from Auschwitz, the Nazi Concentration Camp.

He described why some men and women lived through this atrocity.  They found meaning and purpose.  We, including me,  still chase after material, temporary things, But my search for meaning continues. 

I agree with Dr. Frankl's words:  Our deepest desire is the find meaning and purpose. And I think we here in Florida will have plenty of opportunities to rediscover our our purpose.

***

I Wish I'd Written This Book

 

Vanessa Echols was a well loved and respected television newscaster for Channel 9 here in Central Florida for 30 years, prior to her recent retirement.  

I've just finished reading her book, We're in Heaven, and I Have Some Questions. Have you ever been in Bible studies where no questions were asked, where you were required to accept someone else's interputation of The Word?  "No questions allowed."

It's clear from the beginning that Vanessa is a strong believer but she uses her own cultural colloquialisms to tell the stories.  The book is very funny and entertaining.

Vanessa Echos

Vanessa has profiled 41 characters in the Bible.  They are presented alphabetically. (Since I'm a little OCD, I appreciate this.  Also, each chapter is no more than one or two pages long.  However, she leaves room for our own comments.  

Writers need structure and encouragement to let our words flow.  Vanessa Echols has provided this for me.  She begins by saying "If you don't have a sense of humor, don't read this book."

She asks David, when he was dancing before the Lord, if he was doing the Electric Slide.

There are many stories in the Bible - and in all of history - where folks experience a reversal of fortune.  Jacob in the Old Testament was a trickster.  But then he was tricked by his father-in-law, Laben.  In the book of Esther, the evil Hamon experiences this reversal of fortune. 

But Vanessa says it this way:  "The playa got played."  And she describes Esther  doing "a total boss move."

Thank you Vanessa Echols.  In a way I did write a little of your book but only because you invited me to do so.  

See Ya!

***

Working Babies

 Netflix  now has new episodes of "Call the Midwife," the wildly popular British series.  I love this show.  It deals with hard issues, but the characters; nuns, nurses and others,  are extremely kind and calm throughout.  They are excellent examples of how we should all behave in times of crisis. 

Because it's about bicycle riding midwives, from right after World War II up through the sixties,  we get to watch multiple babies being born in every episode.

I've often wondered about where they get these babies.  They come in all sizes and colors.  Do they hire them?  What do they pay the babies?  

A couple of days ago the Orlando Sentinel published an article on babies and toddlers working in a nursing home.  The director, when taking her own wee one to work with her, was surprised at how the patients enjoyed her child.  So she's now arranged regular visits from babies and toddlers. 

The article said they're paid in formula and diapers. 

I have a fantastic little great-grand baby.  She's now a toddler and even more adorable.  Relatives line up to get to spend time with her.  So my question now is:  should she get a job?

***

Prophecy

 

I like the concept captured in this cartoon by The New Yorker's cartoonist, Benjamin Schwartz.  This guy in the cartoon should have read the sign.

David, the senior pastor at my church, has just begun a sermon series on the book of Amos.  Amos was one of the Old Testament prophets.  His book is only nine short chapters, but, like all the other Old Testament prophets' books, it's a doozy. God is angry with us.  Or, as David reminds us, God is angry with these particular people at this particular time in history.  

However, I tend to think that God is most likely angry with a good many of us at this particular time in history!  

One of my favorite subjects is the Nature of God.  To me, God's overriding nature is love. But Pastor David reminded us this morning that "The God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are the same God." And that God uses the prophets and others to call us back to our identity as God's chosen ones.  

This morning David referenced the 1986 movie The Mission.  I saw it in 1986 and felt the very same way he did about it.  However, I'm not a cryer (he described himself sobbing in the theater) so I had to carry the images around for a while before they dissipated.  In the movie an official who has been part of an horrendous atrocity shrugs it off by saying "Thus is the world."  (Insert any current atrocity that has been recently committed in our city, state. country, world.) 

 In the film the response to "Thus is the world" was "Thus have we made the world."

I'm looking forward to the next sermon.  

***

Fly Me To The Moon

 And let me play among the stars...

I'm still reading articles on the discoveries of the James Webb Telescope. It's hard to differentiate between the crazies and the scientists.  The former tend toward a prediction of the end times.  The experts are giving us facts that I'm still finding hard to grasp.  

UCF planetary Scientist Noemi Pinilla-Alonsos was among the first to see the galaxy clusters, cosmic ridges and new stars 13 billion lightyears away at the edge of time and the birth of the universe.  I love her quote below:

It holds key information on the first stages of the formation the solar system.  We know that we all are made of the same materials that form the solar system, in reality, and that is one part of that inventory of materials that we don't know.  So knowing about the first stages of the solar system is knowing about ourselves.

That last sentence is so very exciting. 

I saw an older episode of "Young Sheldon" last night.  Sheldon was questioning his Baptist minister about the nature of God.  He was asking if God is the savior of (just) the world, or the universe.  The minister was completely flummoxed.  

I would recommend that Pastor Jeff read "Your God is too Small" by J. B. Phillips.

***

Twinkle, Twinkle

 Twinkle twinkle little star

When I attend my daily water aerobics group we sing the twinkle song while exercising our arms and fingers.  This week it has reminded me of the James Webb telescope photos.  

How I wonder what you are

Years ago I was a huge Carl Sagan fan and have done my best to wrap my brain around these latest photos of the vast unknown.  But I cannot. 

Up above the world so high 

These photos take us far beyond our galaxy; lead us far beyond the Big Bang theory.  I cannot begin to grasp what this means,  By the way, the best words I know to explain the Big Bang are the song lyrics from the TV show, Our whole universe was in a hot, dense state, then fourteen billion years ago, expansion started, wait...The earth began to cool, the autotrophs began to drool... 

What I do know is that these photos give me an even greater sense of God's power and glory.  They remind me of the book of Revelation.  The true meaning is yet to be revealed. 

Like a diamond in the sky.

***

The Greatest Country Song of All Time

George Jones

He said I'll love you 'till I die

I finally got around to reading the featured article about country music in the current AARP magazine and was reminded that many experts consider "He Stopped Loving Her Today" as the greatest country song of all time.  

And furthermore, Rolling Stone magazine named "He Stopped Loving Her Today" as number 275 on their list of the 500 greatest songs of all time.  So, not just a country song, but all songs ever written!

I just don't get it.  Country music is loaded with sad songs.  By the way, my favorite is "Sunday Morning Comin' Down" as sung by Johnny Cash. 

Written in 1980 by Bobby Braddok and Curly Putman, "He Stopped Loving Her Today" was recorded by the sad and brooding George Jones.  

I've read that Jones hated the song when he first heard it.  He thought it was too long, too sad, and too depressing.

Well, hey, isn't that an excellent description of  country songs?  

He stopped loving her today

They placed a wreath upon his door

And soon they'll carry him away

He stopped loving her today 

***

I Love My AARP Magazine

 

Many  people dread that first AARP Magazine arriving in the mail.  It's a sign that they've been thrown into a new phase of life - whether they want it or not. 

I loved mine from the beginning.  The most recent features country music but my favorite article is called "I Witnessed History."  It depicts eight stories told by normal, every day folks who unexpectedly landed in the middle of a significant event in history.  

One of my favorite's was written by 78 year old Mary Robinson.  In 1980 her husband was transferred to London.  Mary would be working part time so she had to find a baby-sitter for a couple of days a week to care her baby boy, Patrick.  

The agency sent over an 18 year old Diane Spencer.  Yes, that Diane Spencer! 

Diane and Patrick

 She became very fond of Mary and Patrick. When the family moved back to the states, "these little blue airmail letters started arriving."  

Then, in 1981, a note came saying that Mary and her husband would be receiving an invitation to the wedding.

Yes, that wedding!

For the rest of Diane's life the two women stayed in touch.  The last visit the had was a lunch at Kensington Palace with just Diane, Mary, and her two children. 

The next, and final time they were together was when Lord Chamberlain invited Mary to the funeral in 1997.

Every one of the eight stories is spellbinding.  Be sure to look at your current copy - if you're old enough.

*** 

Humility

I spent much of my life putting up a very strong front. I couldn't handle being vulnerable.   I had great difficulty accepting help.  I know many people who've done the same thing.

This morning's church service was  good in so many ways.  The theme for this month has been has been on targeting five emotions, Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger and Disgust,  all based on the Pixar film "Inside Out."

Today we dealt with anger.  As I looked around I saw a couple of friends who I know have anger issues about what's happening in their lives.  

 We get in trouble when we refuse to accept reality.  It makes us feel angry and impotent. 

Below is a parable taken from one of David Seaman's books.  It describes me in my younger life.  

DON'T TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL - PLEASE!

The scene didn't make sense.  There he lay in the street bleeding; the hit and run driver gone.  He needed medical help immediately.  Yet, he kept pleading. "Don't take me to the hospital, please"

Surprised, everyone asked, "Why?"

Pleadingly he answered, "Because I am on the staff at the hospital.  It would be embarrassing for them to see me like this.  They have never seen me bleeding and dirty.  ...I am a mess."

But the hospital is for people like you.   Can't we call an ambulance?"

"No, please don't...the admissions clerk would be upset...she always gets upset if anyone from admittance doesn't have all the details she needs to fill our her records.  I didn't see who hit me, and I don't even know the make of the car or license number.  - Just pull me over to the curb.  

With this he tried to crawl to the gutter while everyone left him alone. Maybe he is still there.

Are you good at binding up other peoples wounds but angry and secretive about your own?  Over the last few years I've finally been able to evidence some humility and ask for help.  And it has changed my life immeasurably.

***

Redemption

 

This summer  I've been rewatching some of my favorite movies.  My favorite genre is redemption films.  Perhaps my favorite redemption movie ever is "Life as a House."  It's not a religious film.  It's R rated. The house is a metaphor for all of the wounded characters.  Each one of them is a mess and, as the old ramshackle house is torn down and the new one is rebuilt, so are the lives of the people.  Each one receives healing, even the one who dies. 

When I was still working I used this powerful film as a discussion starter several times.  It tends to make folks react emotionally.  I'm not an emotional person.  I'm a left-brain, pragmatic, analytical robot. 

But when I watched the movie a few days ago, sitting all alone on my couch,  I experienced a big surprise.  Toward the end something strange happened.  I began to cry, to sob actually.  

A few years ago a friend told me this story.  In the year 2000, her daughter, who lived in Santa Monica, California, was helping to get a library started in her children's school.  They had no building and no books.  

She learned that the house that had been built for a movie there had recently been disassembled and stored.  She asked that it be donated for the library and reassembled at the school.  This was the house from "Life as a House".  Later that year the movie premiered in a little theater in Santa Monica.  The proceeds were donated to the library.  So that particular house isn't just a metaphor.  It will live on forever in the hearts and minds of the children who read the books they discover inside.

This, in its self, is both remarkable and healing.  

***

Check out my new book "Florida, A Love Story" on Amazon. 

Home

 I had a nice surprise earlier in the week.  My husband David's brother-in-law called to tell me how much he enjoyed my new book, Florida, A Love Story.  This was especially exciting to me because he's a retired professor and somewhat of a historian.  Long retired, he still enjoys leading classes on Shakespeare and other lofty subjects in his retirement community.

 At some point, when we were discussing story telling, he brought up Toni Morrison.  This surprised me.  We then had a discussion about her work.   He told me he'd read everything she'd ever done and asked if I'd read the novel she'd written in 2012 titled Home.  I had not.  I'd never even heard of it.  But I ordered it from Amazon while we were still on the phone.  

Home is about a black man returning home from the Korean war in the 1950s, Morrison describes Frank as a modern Odysseus returning to a 1950s America minded with lethal pitfalls for an unwary black man. 

In this painful, scathing novel Morrison, as usual, doesn't preach.  She just tells Frank's story.  Early on, when Frank is on a train he sees a woman and her husband who has obviously been beaten.  Frank asks a waiter what happened.  The waiter explained that the man got off the train to buy a cup of coffee and the proprietor and others had physically thrown him out of the restaurant.  

The abused couple whispers to each other, she softly, pleadingly, he with urgency.  He will beat her when they get home, thought Frank...What was intolerable was the witness of a woman, a wife, who not only saw it, but had dared to try to rescue - rescue! - him.  

I've been thinking about this passage for two days. 

I told David's brother-in-law about how some Florida schools want to ban Toni Morrison's books Beloved and The Bluest Eye.  We agreed that neither of us was surprised.  Morrison told  a truth many of us don't want to hear.    

***

Winter Park Library

 

This morning my friend, Christie, and I had breakfast at our new First Watch restaurant in Winter Park.  Afterwards we toured the fabulous new Winter Park Library and Civic Center. It has been a long time coming, with much hand wringing, from all parties involved.  Just like most projects in Winter Park.  

Besides the convention center, the library has many features that were not in the original plans.  Whether it is your cup of tea or not, it is stunning, and massive.  

The structure is at the edge of Martin Luther King, Jr. park.  In the early 90s my husband, Ken, and I were part of a group formed to build a park that would serve both the black and white communities which, at that time, were still sharply divided.  It was to be a bridge, so to speak.  It took a few years but finally the park came together and was dedicated in 1996. 

In the park was a small bridge called "Unity Bridge" to signify what this project was all about.   During this time Ken and I received news that he had a terminal illness.  It was devastating.  After both of us shed tears and voiced our fears we looked toward the future.  

What would be our next step?  We decided it would cheer us up to buy "unity bricks" for the bridge, dedicated to our large and growing family.  In the photo you can see a couple of the Crossman bricks.  They're all still there.  Over the years I have shared about the joy of placing these bricks in other blog postings but, to me,  the significance of what we did all those years ago still holds. 

Much has change between 1996 and today.  To me, to the park, to the community, to my family and friends; but the bricks are still there. 

*** 

                                           

Tony Bennett

 

I love Tony Bennett.  Almost every day I listen to one of his Youtube videos. In his later years he did duets with some of the finest singers in the world.  And they're all on Youtube. 

This morning I watched, again, Anderson Cooper's 60 Minutes interview with Tony.  The interview took place both before and after Tony's sold out farewell concert at Carnegie Hall, with Lady Gaga, celebrating his 95th birthday.  

Tony has Alzheimer's disease and is barely able to speak.  At the time of the interview he still recognized his wife and children but almost no-one else.  But when the pianist began, he was fully able to burst into song.  And his voice was still the Tony Bennett voice we remember from 50 years ago.  Alzheimer's and other forms of dementia are not only tragic but confounding in how our minds respond to memory triggers.

Anderson Cooper spoke with Lady Gaga, who has been his duet partner for years, about the farewell concert.  She said that Tony had not spoken her name in a very long time, but when she appeared on stage he said "Lady Gaga!" And she was so moved it was difficult to carry on. 

My husband,  Ken, was on dialysis for eight years prior to his death.  During that time he developed dementia.  While I tried to take him out to lunch or to shop (which was his favorite thing to do) most days, he became very upset with me because I would not take him from our home in Florida to his high school reunion in Ohio.  Finally my son John said he would do it. 

It was a nightmare.  Dealing with a person who has an astonishingly high I. Q. along with dementia can only (sarcastically) be described as "Good Times!"  Good time in the airport where he wondered off, and in the hotel room where they shared a bed so Ken couldn't escape out into the hall.  

But here is the totally exasperating part.  The first gathering for the reunion was held in the lobby of  the hotel where they were staying.  John had difficulty getting Ken dressed in suit and tie and then bundling him into the elevator. 

But when they stepped out into the reunion, the light turned on!  Ken was charming.  He was handsome.  As the former president of the graduating class of 1955 he gave a little speech.  Women were saying to John, "Why isn't your mother here?  Is she still living?"  So John had to fend off these women who were turned on by his charming, articulate dad. 

*** 

If you'd like to see the Anderson Cooper, 60 Minutes interview, it's on Youtube.

The Earring Crisis is Over

 

About ten days ago I put on an old pair of earrings and, at the end of the day, was unable to get one of them off.  

At first I thought if I just applied lotion and tugged enough it would open.   After a few days I realized it would not.  

I'm big fan of Youtube videos but they were no help.  There were plenty of Youtube demonstrations but not for this kind of earring.  One young woman had her earring stuck for four years! That was alarming. 

 Next I looked for places to go to have an expert remove the earring.  The most popular places for the Youtube videos were tattoo/piercing establishments.  I have a couple of granddaughters who have tattoos so thought maybe one of them could hook me up. 

Next I thought about friends or relatives I would trust to cut the earring off with a wire cutter.  The only people I could think of, that I would entrust my ear to are my grandson and his wife, but they are having a super busy week  

I was kind of sad about all this yesterday because I always wear my favorite earrings my daughter gave me for special occasions, like church on Mother's Day. 

This morning I was back at it.  I ransacked my tool box trying to find my needle nosed pliers but to no avail.  David used them often to pull the plastic back on  his favorite TV dinners so I knew they existed but no dice finding them.    I finally settled for this extremely dirty, big, scary looking pair.  

So, after cleaning up the pliers, and while pulling my earlobe and half  the earring one direction, I pulled on the other half with the pliers.  This took only about a dozen tries - but then BINGO!

I think I'll make a Youtube video. 

***

 

Following is a blog posting I did for Mother's Day, 2014.  

 When I was a young minister's wife I dreaded Mother's Day.  In our church, as in most churches, we honored the oldest mothers, the youngest mothers and the mothers with the most kids.  Because, apparently, this was something to be proud of. 

Every Mother's Day we started with the process of elimination.  And the same two ladies would stand up and argue about who was the oldest.  Everybody knew they were born in the same year - two months apart.

Then the same process was started for the youngest mom.  Occasionally, when the winner was 17, or younger, I would quietly go berserk. 

Of course, since it was my busy season of popping out babies from time to time, I would sometimes win the prize for the MOST children.  Beyond humiliating!

Times have changed.  We no longer measure motherhood in this inane way.  There are good moms and terrible moms and everything in between.  I was sometimes all of these on the same day. 

This morning, in my church, my minister, Jayne, did a different take on Proverbs "Ideal Wife."  It was great.  But prior to that she asked every female in the congregation to stand up.  She mentioned girls and women, married and single, moms or not.  Then she let us know how much God values us.  Just like we are. 

It's not a contest.

***

North and South

 

In my book, Florida, A Love Story,  Catherine, a northerner, is puzzled by the lack of acceptance when she and her husband moved to Central Florida in the 1800s.  

She thinks she's won over her neighbors when they're invited to a picnic.  She, in turn, invites Joe Black and Naomi, who work for them, to attend as well.  They decline and tell her why this is a bad idea. 

Catherine couldn't separate the teaching All are acceptable in God's sight" from the realities of who would be acceptable at a cracker picnic. 

Later on she is devastated and confused when the five pies she had brought were not touched, except by her husband, Sam. Her neighbor set her straight by telling her Crackers don't eat food fixed by Yankees.

Fast forward a hundred years or so, to the late 1970s.  My husband, Ken, a United Methodist Minister, had great success serving as an urban minister in South Florida for nine years.  He was recognized as a strong bridge builder.  So he was "rewarded" by being asked to move to Orlando to facilitate a difficult change for two downtown churches, located less than a mile from each other.  One was Broadway, the other was Concord Park.  Both churches had lost members, mostly due to urban flight.  Both church buildings were lovely, especially Broadway.  

Ken's assignment was to merge the churches.  The district superintendent at that time said that it was crazy to do anything else.  There were even folks who lived next door to each other attending different Methodist churches. 

Apparently the districts superintendent had forgotten our nation's and our denomination's history.   For well over 100 years, the Methodists were divided into North and South churches.  The original issue, of course, was slavery. But the Civil War did not change this split.  Many southern congregations were caught between church rules and state law.  

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Within the first few weeks, Ken knew that these congregations would never merge.  Broadway was a "North" church and Concord Park was a "South" church.  The people who lived next to each other  attended different churches for a reason.  

We were at Broadway and Concord Park for four years.  During that time both congregations grew, especially Broadway.  During that time Broadway suffered a devastating fire.  Ken encouraged the Concord Park congregation to invite the Broadway folks to meet with them while the year long repairs were made.  They kindly made the invitation but there was no way they'd meet together.  Concord Park worshiped was at 9:30 and Broadway at 11:00.

Knowing our United Methodist history helps me remain hopeful for our denomination's future as we struggle with the question of  All are acceptable in God's sight" from the realities of who would be acceptable at a cracker picnic or a United Methodist Church.

***

"That's Enough Boys"

 

Shecky Greene died last week at age 96.

Who was Shecky Greene?  Early on he was a stand up comic and was frequently Frank Sinatra's opening act.  

Many times, when I was invited to speak at a corporate event of some kind, it would be explained to me that I was to go on first to warm up the audience before the experts in the various fields would do the serious stuff.  

As a way to let that person know that I understood exactly what they wanted from me I would respond by saying.  "Yes, I get it.  You want me to be Shecky Greene to (your company's) Frank Sinatra."  They almost always laughed and said, yes, that's what we want.  Because 40 or 50 years ago, most people knew the reference.  

Most people also knew that Greene and Sinatra had a continuous relationship and how they both hung out with thugs.  And Sinatra was famous for having thugs for body guards.   Sometime, during these decades from long ago, I heard a story about how Frank Sinatra saved Shecky Greene's life in a back alley one night in Miami Beach......by saying "that's enough boys!"

I thought it was hysterically funny and shared this story in my own "stand up" several times.  Most times it went over but, as time passed, much of the the audience didn't get the reference.  

It was an intriging story about Frank Sinatra, who was a genuine movie star in the golden era of Hollywood, and one of the finest singers of his era; but also liked to have his bodyguards beat people up on a regular basis.  

While I loved sharing it, I never knew if this particular story was true.  That is until last week when I read the following words of  Shecky Greene in his obituary. 

Frank Sinatra?  Heck of a guy - real prince.  Saved my life once.  We were doing a show at the Sands, and between sets, I took a break in the parking lot.  Next thing I know three guys are working me over real good.  Then I hear Frank say, "OK, boys, that's enough."

***

Real Stories

It's been a joy to have discussions about my new book Florida, A Love Story.

Set in the 1800s, it is an exciting, fast paced story of old Florida.  The history is real but the story is fiction. 

Or is it?

Many of the events in Florida, A Love Story happened to me - but not all in Florida.  In the late 1960s my husband, Ken, and I, and our two preschool children, left Florida and headed to Georgia where he attended Candler School of Theology at Emory University.  For the first two years Ken was a "student" pastor in North Georgia. We had a circuit of three churches, Bold Spring, Trinity and Liberty.  Yes, Ken was a circuit rider.   

We were life long urbanites with a civil rights background one week and the next week were were living in a church parsonage in the deep south.  And Ken's new name was "Preacher."

This experience was truly like stepping back in history. 

The very first day we arrived we visited a home where a man had died the day before.  Not only were we greeted by family members in the parlor but he was there as well, in a home made coffin in the middle of the room.  No funeral home.  They buried him the next day in the graveyard next to the church - after the "preacher" said a few words.  

It was on the back porch of the parsonage that I discovered a bag of beans and had no idea what to do with it until I discovered it was black eyed peas (just like Catherine did in the book.)  

Sometime during that two years a racist (his description) ax wielding Lester Maddox was running for governor against Bo Calloway.  We voted in the church building.  There was absolutely no privacy. Every person knew how we voted.  But if that wasn't enough, when the weekly paper came out they recorded the count.  87 votes for Maddox, 2 for Calloway.  (Just like the experience Sam had in the book.)

Available on Amazon

The two year experience of living in North Georgia was good for us.  We learned to love these people - with whom we had very little in common and they were very excepting of us.  However I'm sure they thought of us much like the community of Oconee thought of Catherine and Sam.  "It's like the dang king and queen of England decided to take up ranching' in the middle of the swamp! They don't know nothin' about nothin'."

When we visited the smallest of the three churches on the circuit, Liberty, we made sure we went to the bathroom before leaving home because Liberty had no running water, and only an outhouse for those in need.  The kids and I entered the church when we arrived and sat on the right with the rest of the women.  Ken stayed outside with the men who were hanging around their old trucks, plus one family always came in a horse drawn buggy.  At the beginning of the last hymn, that we sang by "lining," the men entered and sat on the left.  

Yes, this is exactly the same situation Cole encountered  during his short stent as a circuit riding preacher in the 1800s. 

***

 

Cowboy Movies

 

When I was a kid my little brother, Paul, and I went to the movies every Saturday and sometimes Sunday as well.  We were each given 25 cents.  15 cents for a ticket, and 5 cents for a bag of popcorn; one for each feature.  We both loved cowboy movies.  And that's mostly what we saw. The movies were called Westerns.  Cowboys were in the West; Texas, Wyoming or Utah mostly.  And there was the "Gunfight at the OK Coral' that took place in Tombstone, Arizona.  These were serious cowboys.  But our favorites were Roy Rogers and Gene Autry who were singing cowboys.  

But in my new book, Florida, A Love Story, we learn that:  

Orange County in Central Florida was the largest cattle-raising area in the United States, including Texas. And during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, cattle raising continued to grow in importance....Florida, a cattle baron's magnet with its open ranges, would be one of the last cattle states to adopt fencing laws. 

Who knew?

We've had fun promoting the book.  My publisher, editor, and I were recently invited to speak on a podcast.  Our editor, Trish, told about how, when she was little, she and her brother would go to see cowboy movies every Saturday, like Paul and I did, only with a little different twist.  Trish's brother had a horse so she and her brother rode the horse every Saturday to see the cowboy movies.

A nice added touch. 

Thanks to all of you who've bought the book.  If you'd like a copy, the easiest place find it is on Amazon. 

***

Film Makers

 How important are the arts?  Could we live whole, healthy lives without the arts?  I don't think so.  Despite our need as humans to receive this,  it's hard to make a living in the arts.  

I've occasionally crushed some young peoples' dreams by reminding them "It's hard to make a living in the arts."  Believe me, I know.

Film makers are a special kind of storytellers. I have a couple of film makers in my life so I have great appreciation for this gift and skill.  I recently read an article in my AARP Bulletin  about film makers, Tefta Bejko and Bujar Alimani.  

The struggle they had to get out of their native land, Albania, and finally land in New York City, would make a triumphant film itself.  Bujar started on foot, climbing mountains and crossing rivers until he reached Greece.  Tefta joined him later, and they had a child. 

They started making films.  Bujar wrote and directed, Tefta handled production. Their work was honored.  Albania chose their first feature, Amnistia, as it's entry for the 2012 Oscars. Later, two other films were put up for Academy Awards. 

Now, years later,  here comes the most interesting part of the article.  Both Tefta and Bujar have full time working class jobs.  Tefta is a cashier in a supermarket.  Bujar works an eight hour construction job.  

As Bujar says, "We don't get paid much for our film work.  Nearly every dollar we earn or raise goes to pay our actors, crew and expenses."  

Additionally he says, "I must document these memories.  I am an artist....My mission is to tell not just the story, but the truth."

Amen, Bujar. 

***

Cheers!

 

These last few years my son has done some interesting (and crazy) things for my birthday.  Some of them are fun, like notes from people in our community I truly admire.  Some are questionable.  Like a few years ago I received an autographed photo of Pat Boone.  

Queue the eye role.  

So this past December, when my birthday rolled around, I wasn't surprised to receive a Cameo video from George Wendt.  Cameo makes personalized videos featuring  "famous personalities."  You can chose either personal or business videos.  

When I watched my George Wendt video I was kind of doing the "eye roll" thing. Early on he mentioned Nora Ephron and Steve Martin and I had no idea what that had to do with me.  But after watching it a couple of more times I began to realize it was all about me.  

He started out saying "Happy Birthday Cecily" and he pronounced my name correctly.  That's a plus.   He congratulated me on finishing up my book, Florida, A Love Story.  He sort of bellowed "Comin' out soon!" Then he said "you gotta keep up the writing" and I took this as being a little patronizing because he'd not read anything I'd written.

But, as he continued I realized he had read many of my blog postings.  I love Nora Ephron (now deceased) and, over the years, have written several posts about her.  George's favorites seem to be the ones about food.  I wrote a few postings about Steve Martin as well.  He, like Nora, is a serious writer.  He used to write often for The New Yorker.  

George went on to discuss "Fear of Nuns."  On August, 30, 2021 I wrote a posting titled "Nuns and Clowns."  It dealt with our fears, rational or not, of these two groups.  George suggested I watch a show called "Rebel Hearts."  It's about some seriously strong nuns. 

So, I went from "eye rolling" to being impressed by and grateful for, George Wendt's greeting.  I hope you'll take a look at Cameo. What an interesting concept for both personal and corporate use. 

George never once mentioned Norm.  But he did end his video by saying, "Cheers."

***

Introspection 2022

 Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.  For the first time in several years I wasn't able to get to church to have ashes placed on my forehead in the shape of a cross and being reminded that I came from dust and to dust I will return. 

I like ritual.  And I like going deep into myself during Lent.  For me it's very much a time of introspection.  

My calendar page for this morning shows Duccio di Buoniinsegna's painting, "The Healing of the Blind Man."  He painted this sometime between 1278 and 1318.  That was a while back. 

Introspection means taking a deep dive inside ourselves.  

Scary.  

What I know about myself is that I am left brained.  I'm comfortable being analytical and orderly.  I don't like surprises.  I like to know what's happening.  I don't do well with high emotion or magical thinking.  

I think this is why I love the story of the blind man in the book of John, chapter nine.  It's all about the facts.  When his neighbors asked "Isn't this the same man who used to sit and beg?'  He said "I am the man."

When the Pharisees tried to trip up Jesus by asking the blind man what, how and why Jesus had done, he didn't embellish.  He said, "He told me to go to Siloam and wash.  So I went and washed, and then I could see." 

This guy would make a great witness on Law and Order.   

When they asked the man's parents what happened they replied, "We know he is our son and we know he was born blind.  But how can he see now, or who opened his eyes, we don't know. Ask him."

It's pretty analytical but contemplating on what this scripture means to me personally makes me go deep.

Six more weeks of introspection then.....Easter!

***

Florida, A Love Story

 

Yesterday, when I was walking out the door to go to church, my son called to tell me my book, Florida, A Love Story, had just appeared on Amazon.  I wasn't expecting this.  My publisher told me it would be between two and six weeks.  

When I got to church I saw my friend, Lou, sitting in the courtyard.  I sat down beside him and we talked about the book.  A couple of years ago I had given Lou a copy of my manuscript to check out because he's been a docent at the Florida History Center for many years.  He assured me that the history was right.  Yesterday he reminded me that he loved the book.  

And he read it before my editor chopped it up and pasted it back together into a much more readable fashion.  While all the words are mine, many folks have added seasoning to this stew of Florida history and adventure.  

 I have not seen a hard copy.  I ordered mine from Amazon yesterday.  I hope you'll do the same.  It will be in Barnes and Noble soon. 

What's it about?  To me, it's about broken and suffering people being healed.  I hope you'll read it and tell me what you think.  The bottom line is this.  I love the book.  I hope you will love it too. 

***

Adapting to Change

I've had a pretty remarkable life in a remarkable time in history.  So have most of you.

In the 1970s and 1980's mangers began hiring me as a consultant to help them with their "secretary" problems.   This was back when all the men had offices with windows and all the women worked in a "pool." The problem was that these women were quiting their jobs at an alarming rate.  Why?  Because these big boxes where coming in filled with somting called "computers" to replace their dependable, familiar typewriters. It was my job to help these women understand we were moving into a brave new world, a time that would be called the "Information Age."  And that we must adapt.  I found this exciting but I didn't comprehend how drastically our lives would change.

We don't like change but it's happening all around us, every day.  Our life spans have grown longer so even that is relatively new.    

Yesterday I did the first posting on a brand new blog.  It's titled My Meniere's and, in 12 short (one page) chapters, it chronicles my journey with Meniere's Disease.  The reason for this is because I keep running into people who have no idea what this illness is about.  The blog is not about my suffering.  It's about an illness that is rare and strange and hard for us to find the answers we need .
 

My life is blessed beyond measure - but this illness has changed the way I live it. I hope this new blog will help someone you may know who is suffering with Meniere's Disease or vertigo. 

I sent the first chapter out yesterday.  I will send the second tomorrow.  

Google “Cecily Crossman Blog”

 

Click on “User Profile: cecily crossman – Blogger.com”

 

https://www.blogger.com/profile/09159023677029019245

Shows profile and links to both blogs

 

This is the link to My Meniere’s:

https://cecilycrossman.blogspot.com

 

 

Direct link to My Best Time:

http://mybesttime-mybesttime.blogspot.com

***